


Return to the Grid

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Category: Tron (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Grid Theory, I hate Clu, Tron is a good guy, what even happened, with my soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: Sam and Quorra go back to the Grid after two months of avoiding it. Sam isn't sure what they'll find, and he almost doesn't want to know.





	Return to the Grid

**Author's Note:**

> Tron in the human world, people. Of all the endless possibilities...  
> I'm pretty sure that Tron is more than a program, but that's just my personal opinion. There's a personality buried in there somewhere, I'm quite sure.  
> Also, I own nothing.  
> I have no idea what Tron does and doesn't know about the User world, but I'm gonna guess it's not much.

          Sam had known he was going to return to the Grid whether he wanted to or not. He had to know what happened to it after he left, and there was really only one way to find out. It could be monitored from outside, but nothing could truly be changed without unknown consequences inside. 

          He _has_ to know what happened to his dad. To Tron. There are too many variables. 

          It’s been about two months for him since he’s been back in the real world, and that means it could possibly be a year or more in the Grid. Or it could have glitched when Flynn reintegrated with Clu, and it’s been standing still ever since. He’s been avoiding going back, partially because he doesn’t know if he’s going to like what he finds and partially because Quorra has been blending into the real world. He doesn’t want her to come with him, but she won’t let him go alone. He knows that much.  

          It’s time.  

          He’s waiting for Quorra in front of the Tron game, leaning against it gently. She’s taken to walking around the city, loving all the noise and color. It doesn’t bother him, since he’s still willing to avoid this trip for as long as possible.  

          “Sam?” 

          His head snaps up. “Quorra.” 

          “Are you okay?” 

          He shrugs. “I was just lost in thought, I guess. Are you ready to go? Do you have everything you need?” 

          “Don’t worry, Sam. I’m probably more prepared for this trip than you are. You just need to remember that we don’t have forever in here to explore. We’ll need to find who we can, and then come back. We’ll need to be careful, since bringing your father’s disk back onto the Grid could be dangerous.” 

          Sam nods, pushing the game to the side and treading slowly down the stairs, his flashlight in his hand. Quorra presses at his back with a gentle hand as he stops at the bottom of the stairs. He nods slowly, stepping into the small room and removing his necklace. He slides the command chip back into the machine and listens to it cycle up. He settles in the chair, Quorra hovering over his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.  

          “Be brave, Sam. You’ll never know the truth if you don’t look for it.” 

          He lets out a heavy breath, nodding. “Okay. Hold onto something.” 

          “I already am.” 

          His fingertips hover over the order to open the aperture and he taps it before he can give himself a chance to overthink it. He closes his eyes, hoping to quell his nerves with the action. It doesn’t work, his organs lurching as he comes around on the Grid. Quorra doesn’t seem to notice the change all that much, but it’s startling for him to be back. The weird thing is that it doesn’t drop him in the digital Flynn’s like last time, but right where he and Quorra had left. Both of their clothing has reverted to their light suits. The area looks exactly the same. The bridge is still drawn back, and there isn’t really a way off the platform. Odd. Sam was pretty sure this part had exploded.

          Sam crouches down, pressing a cautious hand to the floor. “No time like the present to see if dad gave me administrator privileges.” A small piece of floor moves away and Sam drops his father’s disk inside for safe keeping. He smiles, hoping that he’s got enough power here to do everything they need to do. 

          “I brought spare batons, but I don’t think we should use them just in case someone’s watching this place.” 

          “Good idea.” 

          Quorra keeps watch while Sam tries to figure out how to work Grid controls, if he has them. He grins as the bridge extends. “I got it.” 

          “That’s great. We should get moving.” 

          “Where’s the last place you remember seeing Tron?” 

          “Why?” 

          “Since I’m hooked up to the Grid now, I’m trying to track him and dad. Dad’s… not there, but I think I’m picking up Tron. Not a location, but just… life-signs, I suppose.” 

          Quorra considers for a little bit. “Last I saw, he fell into the Sea of Simulation. He’d be lucky if any of his circuits survived.” 

          Sam grumbles. “I really, really didn’t like Clu before, but stranding Tron? He may have been Rinzler for a long while, but at least he was loyal.” 

          “He may still be, but we have to be careful. We don’t know what Clu did to his programming.” Quorra murmurs, still looking a little conflicted on the Tron thing.

          Sam nods. “I think if anyone was around, they’d have tried to stop us if they were going to. We can probably use the flyers. Just keep low across the water.” 

          “What do we do if he’s is more Rinzler than Tron?” 

          “Help him, of course. What do you think Alan would say if I let his program stay like that?” 

          Quorra huffs. “I don’t know that he’d say anything, but he’d be disappointed.” 

          Sam quietly agrees, taking a baton from Quorra when she offers it. Leaping off the side of the building would be exhilarating if there was wind, but the Grid has none this close to the I/O. His light flyer forms around him, altering with quirks of his own code. They peruse the Sea for a long while, Sam following his instincts more than anything else. He doesn’t know where Tron is, but at least he’s alive. He’d love to meet the guy when he isn’t trying to kill him. It would also be a chance to see if he could attempt a fix on Tron’s disks. 

          Sam alters his flyer a little shakily, not quite used to utilizing his own code. It’s a little on the nose and probably too specific, but at least it gets the job done. He lands in the water, skating towards a landmass where he figures someone could reach it. Even if Tron was unconscious when he hit the water, there’s a chance he washed up on the shore.  

          Quorra slows in her flight, hovering low over the ground so that she can land. Sam slides up onto the shore, collapsing his flyer back into his baton and looking around. The island is fairly large, but it’s the only land around for a couple miles… or whatever it’s measured in here. They split up to hasten their search. 

          Sam estimates that it’s been about a cycle and a half when he sees something. There’s something on the bit-sand of the beach, its mass dark. Sam approaches with caution until he’s close enough to recognize that it’s a person. Or a Program. He crouches next to him, rolling him onto his back from where he was curled up on his side. His arm is cut, data shards falling out around his wrist. He’s definitely hurt. Sam tries to prop him up a little, but his head keeps lolling back. He pulls him further up on the shore, trying to ignore the dark lines of his suit. He’s not dead, otherwise he would be data scattered on the beach. 

          Calling for Quorra, Sam struggles to get him somewhere more sheltered. Hopefully she hears him from wherever she is.  

          “Come on, Tron. You can make it.” 

          Sam takes the disks from his back, carefully pulling up his code and going through it. He pulls out a little of Clu’s code, trying to avoid tripping any failsafes that may have been implanted. The lines on Tron’s suit flicker red and Sam winces.  

          “Sorry, buddy. You’re probably gonna have a rough minute when I put this back on you. My code’s a bit rocky.” 

          He fixes as much code as he can while he waits for Quorra to show up, grimacing as he starts into thick, angry lines of red. He has to bypass a couple subroutines to get around it. Still, as long as his original tasks and commands are safe, Tron should be okay. 

          “Sam?” 

          “Over here, Quorra.” 

          She crouches next to him, her hand getting close to his suit without touching. “He’s in hibernation. Fixing his code should help, but he’ll need a little energy boost.” 

          Sam nods and Quorra pulls her baton open again. Sam plays with the code to make it better for passengers and pulls Tron inside. “We’re heading to dad’s place, right?” 

          “Yes. He has energy stores there that we can use to get Tron back on his feet.” 

          Sam mumbles his agreement, already immersed back into Tron’s programming. Tron twitches, his body curling a little as if in pain. Sam supposes he should probably be careful when he puts the disks back onto Tron’s back. He codes as quickly as he can, knowing that they’re a long way from the hide-out. If they get shot down, there is a chance that Tron will have to fight, whether he’s fit or not.  

          The flight takes a couple hours and Sam is glad he’s sitting down. He’s exhausted from messing with Tron’s code, his blue and white patches showing through prominently now. There’s no telling what it’ll be like when he syncs back with his disks.  

          “We’re almost there. You should probably wake him up after we get there. While you do that, I’ll find as much energy as I can.” 

          Sam hums, staring blankly at a line of code he doesn’t recognize. His anger is kindled against Clu more than before and he flicks the nasty piece of code. It fidgets and Tron jumps. He’s tried to be as careful as possible before now, but his brief surge of emotion overrode his usual control. He pats Tron’s arm, sighing as he sinks a little against the wall.  

          “What do you think, Tron? Suppose I’ve done enough coding for the rest of my life yet?” 

          Tron would say no. Sam knows enough about him to know that, and Tron knows just as well that computers and programs are pretty much in the Flynn blood. Sam tries not to feel like he’s snooping, and tells himself that Alan would want to help Tron too. It’s his childhood hero after all, and if he can’t help Tron, who can? 

          Quorra is silent up front. He knows that she doesn’t know what to think about helping Tron, considering what he’d done as Rinzler and his pursuit of them across the Grid. She’s not as nice as Sam in thinking that making the right choice in the end makes up for all the rest. She’s not near as forgiving, especially considering she’s the last of her species, in part because of Rinzler. 

          Sam is like his dad, always wanting to give people second chances, and fix old mistakes. Kevin Flynn not keeping Tron up to date enough to fight Clu is on his own head, but fixing him is on Sam’s. Tron deserves that much after all he’s been through.  

          Quorra lands the light flyer just outside the mountain, sighing as Sam starts pulling Tron out the back. She doesn’t help. He doesn’t blame her. He’s not too heavy anyway. 

          “Come on, Tron. In we go. I’m sure it’ll be fun waking up from your nap.” 

          Quorra gives him a look. “I doubt it.” 

          “It was a joke, Quorra. I just think it’s weird not to talk to him, even if he is unconscious. I also think it’d be rude just to leave him because of what he was forced to do as Rinzler.”  

          “I know, Sam. It’s just... after everything he did to my kind, I can’t... I don’t know how to let that go without just forgiving the hundreds of deaths he’s responsible for. He did all of it, and he just gets another chance?” 

          “Not all of it, and Clu messed with his programming. He didn’t have a choice.” 

          “Everyone has a choice, Sam. He let Clu get to him.” 

          Sam sighs, dragging Tron into the elevator. “You didn’t see the code, Quorra. All of the base code and functions were there, but everything was just...  _covered_  in malware and Clu’s sloppy code. I have no idea how he was even operating.” 

          “You can likely ask him when you wake him up.” 

          “Yeah.”  Sam answers, a little absently.  “You’ll probably have to wake me up if I fall asleep. I’m exhausted.” 

          Quorra nods. “Non-stop coding for a couple hours will do that, even if you are a User.” 

          “If you give me another hour, I can have him ready to wake up.” 

          “I think you need sleep.” 

          “It’s like you said, remember? We don’t have all the time in the world. Limited cycles.” 

          Quorra nods slowly. “Okay. Call if you need anything, but otherwise, I’ll be scrounging up all the energy I can find on short notice. I won’t raid the stores unless it’s necessary.” 

          Sam is too invested in Tron’s disks again to notice. “Come on, you gross line of malware. Feel free to come loose at any time.” 

          Quorra at least chuckles at that. She likes the way Sam looks when he’s all invested in the code. His brow and nose scrunch up and he gets a frustrated light to his eyes when something isn’t going the way he wants. His mouth presses into a thin line and he squints as he peers over the data. He finally puts the first disk down, running has hand over his face.  

          “Well, I’ve cleaned up all that I think I’m going to from his main disk. Now I’ve just gotta see what’s even on his other one. Hopefully he’ll be able to keep both. I don’t want to send him out anywhere without half of his fighting skill or his shields or scanners or fun stuff like that.” 

          “It would probably be best if our only resident security program wasn’t handicapped, yes.” 

          Sam drags him into one of the spare rooms, pulling him over to a wall and forming a pair of cuffs chained to the floor. On the offhand that Tron does wake up as Rinzler, there is no way Sam wants to be within reachable distance. It feels mean, but it’s also a necessary precaution. Actually, to Sam, it feels more than mean, it’s just  _wrong_.  

          He works diligently with the Rinzler ring, scowling at the hideous amount of Clu’s code spiraling throughout Tron’s matrix. If he had a better idea of what his dad used to do to sling it together faster, he’d do it. Still, it’s better than nothing. 

          It’s only when his head buzzes unpleasantly and his eyes start to blur that he dares to sync Tron’s disks and attach them to him.  With any luck, his self-healing ability will come back online. Sam locks the disks onto his back and takes a tentative step away. The sort-of program jerks to life with a harsh gasp, his coughs as rough as gravel. The growling noise that Rinzler kept making when they met comes back full force for a few seconds and he attempts to pull away from the wall. When the chains jerk him to a stop, his body stiffens and his circuits fill with blue light. He jerks at the restraints, starting to panic. 

          “Tron! Hey, buddy! Listen to me!” Sam tries to calm him down. “Hey, just look at me, all right?” 

          He slows, looking to Sam with confused eyes. “I... I remember you.” 

          “Sam Flynn. I fought you in the Disk Wars when you were... well, uh-” 

          “Rinzler.” the program finishes. “It’s fine. You can say it.” 

          Sam nods, patting his shoulder. “As long as you’re sure you’re okay. I don’t want to do anything unless you’re okay with it.” 

          Tron gives himself a shake, chains rattling on the floor. “No, I feel... better than I have in a long time. Thank you.” 

          Sam shrugs. “You’d do the same for me if our situations were swapped. You did help us escape, after all.” 

          He stares down at his chained hands for a long moment before rasping out a quiet apology. “I’m sorry I panicked. I should have checked the room for threats first.” 

          Huffing, Sam sits down next to Tron. “You’re a security program only by name, and you’re allowed to have human moments too. There’s nothing wrong with it. I have no idea how long Clu messed around with your coding, but I have a pretty good guess. It’s perfectly normal to have a little PTSD.” 

          Tron lets his helmet disappear and he stares at Sam with a questioning expression. “PTSD?” 

          “Post-traumatic stress disorder. Clu tortured you, I’m pretty sure. It wouldn’t be amiss for you to-” 

          “You don’t have to remind me.”  

          Sam pulls his knees up to his chest, letting his head drop onto his knees and closing his eyes. “Yeah.” 

          Tron winces at his own wording. “I apologize. I hadn’t meant to say that I didn’t appreciate your effort to help. There is no telling what I’d be right now if you hadn’t found me. I feel no desire to know, either.” 

          “I know, buddy. I’m just tired. I’ve been working on your code since I found you.” 

          Tron gapes at him. “You need energy as soon as possible.” 

          “Speak for yourself. I may have fixed a lot, but can you actually do anything?” 

          He pauses. “I hadn’t thought to check.” He looks at his hands again and then back to Sam. “Can you let me out of these so I can...” 

          Sam nods, pressing his hand to the floor and scrapping the code without thinking about it. Tron pulls his hands close to his body and looks around the room, eyes tracing each corner.

          “I’m not getting anything. I think you’re right.” He attempts to get up, but he doesn’t have a whole lot of luck. “I’m drained.” 

          Sam nods, calling for Quorra.  

          She comes in with a small pouch full of energy capsules and Sam smiles. “Thanks, Q. I’m exhausted.” 

          “It’s not a surprise.” she answers, turning to Tron and handing him a capsule. “You’ll need a lot more than Sam will. Trust me on that.” 

          Tron swallows it, coughing a little. He had almost expected it to be contaminated like what Clu would always give him. When the coughing fit gets worse, Sam rubs his back to ease it. Quorra only looks mildly concerned, leaving the pouch with the energy in it and leaving the room.  

          “You know, you’ve been my hero ever since I was a kid. Never thought I’d get a chance to actually meet you. I mean, I knew my dad was comin’ to the Grid off and on for a little while, but I never suspected... all of this. Also, I don’t mean to go all crazy on you, but when you did that flip over my disk in the games? That was seriously cool. And the double disks? I mean, that’s gotta be awesome. Not to... to remind you if you remembered.” 

          Tron nods, staring at the pouch on the floor with hunger, but also trepidation. 

          Sam catches him. “You can have as many as you need to feel functional. I promise I’m not gonna stop you.” 

          “You need some as well, and a cycle of sleep, at least.” 

          Sam chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re lucky not to be dead.” 

          Tron sighs, pulling the bag closer and pulling out a pair of vials. He hands the spare to Sam and downs the other for himself. He can feel his systems coming back online and he pulls himself away from the wall to do a proper scan of the room. Sam laughs at him a little for the compulsive need, but it is in his programming to protect the Users. He can’t fault Tron for doing his job, especially if it makes him feel a little better. 

          “KevinFlynn’s code is all over this place.” 

          Sam perks up. “You recognize it?” 

          “He wrote a few algorithms and the like. Alan-One did my original programming, but Flynn did have something to do with...” He gestures to himself. “...this, I suppose.” 

          “Is that a bad thing?” 

          “No!” he answers abruptly. “I mean, no. That’s not a bad thing... it-”  

          “You know... he, well, my dad... he should have been better to you.” 

          Tron’s brow furrows. “Flynn was my friend. If I had an issue with his treatment of me-” 

          “No, I mean... I mean you deserved more. You should have been given the tools you needed to flight Clu, but my dad was too proud to admit something could go wrong. If you had the proper codes and firewalls, then maybe... maybe you wouldn’t have had to be Rinzler.” 

          “SamFlynn, what’s past is past. There is no changing it now. I’m not proud of it, but at least it’s over.” 

          Sam doesn’t respond to that, but he does correct him on something else. “Please just call me Sam. You can call my dad KevinFlynn if you feel the need, but I’d rather just be Sam.” 

          Tron gives him a long look before nodding. He checks the perimeter of the room a second time and third before Sam starts to wonder if it’s more than just Tron being restless.  

          “You okay?” 

          “I’m scanning, but my sensors won’t give me an all-clear. I know it is, but…” 

          Sam stands up, grabbing the bag of capsules and handing a third to Tron. “I told you you’d need a lot.” 

          Tron nods downing that one and a fourth when Sam offers it. He gives himself a shake, checking the room again. A pleased noise makes its way out of him and Sam is glad to hear that it sounds a lot less like he’s been gargling razors. It’s better than the purrs or growls that he made as Rinzler. Though, that doesn’t take much.  

          “All clear.” 

          Sam smiles. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll make sure you’re back on your feet before we take you into the real world.” 

          Tron doesn’t seem to know what to say. “I’m… you’re taking me with you?” 

          “Of course we are. You didn’t think that we’d actually leave you here, did you?” 

          “But as a security program, I’m not... I would be better suited to helping with stabilization of the Grid.” 

          “Sure, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay here forever.” 

          Tron considers that for a few moments before nodding. His scanners gloss over Sam again as they come up with the usual error codes. Users are strange. Especially Sam.  

          “I mean, unless you actually  _want_  to stay here. That’s up to you, really.” 

          “No. I’d like to see the world of the Users.” 

          “Tell you what, man. You ever wonder what the sun is like?” 

          Tron nods vigorously, almost child-like. “Flynn explained the concept of heat and that your world is warmed by a sun. That it’s... colorful.” 

          “Well, colorful is a word for it. For the whole world, really.” 

          Tron paces around the room, a little antsy despite his systems functioning normally again. “You should rest, Sam. While I was created to not require a rest cycle, you are not so fortunate.” 

          “You’ll wake me?” 

          “When it becomes necessary.” 

          Sam frowns a little at that, but then leads Tron from the room. He heads to the bedroom that he had stayed in last time and flops face-first onto the bed. Tron chuckles at his antics, saying nothing. He scans the room, eyes tracing the corners and doorway. When Sam tilts his head in questioning, Tron nods, declaring the room clear.  

          “So, you’re just gonna hang around?” 

          “I’ll be watching over the both of you.” 

          Sam has a feeling that Quorra will be watching Tron like a hawk already, but allows himself to feel comforted by the knowledge that Tron should be okay. His energy has been sapped enough that he doesn’t mind Tron’s pacing as he drifts off.  

          He wakes what feels like an hour or two later to a gentle hand on his shoulder. He almost expects it to be Quorra, but the dark-haired Iso is nowhere to be seen. Tron’s hand retreats quickly. 

          “How long have I been out?” 

          “Two cycles. We need to move. Quorra wanted to wake you sooner, but you needed the rest.” 

          “She’s just worried. Doesn’t want to get stuck here.” 

          “I can’t say I blame her. KevinFlynn was stuck here and nothing good came of it. I can’t reasonably say I wouldn’t expect something similar to happen if you were to get detained.” 

          Sam bobs his head. “Agreed. Though, if it did happen, there’s a chance we could spend most of our time fixing up the Grid while we waited for Alan to find us.” 

          Tron pauses at the name, carefully offering Sam a hand up from the bed. “Alan-One is still alive?” 

          “Of course. I’m not sure he believes all this, but yeah. He’s around. I think the fact that Quorra popped out of the Grid is still sinking in.” 

          “Do you think he’ll be glad to see me?” 

          Sam laughs. “Tron, Alan will be thrilled to see you. He’ll probably be speechless, come to think of it.” 

          Sam leads the way from the room and Tron trails behind, scanning over everything and pausing on Quorra as she steps into the main room. Her signature is odd, and Tron doesn’t quite like the way it sends up more errors than the younger Flynn.  

          “If you still want to look for your dad, we need to get moving.”  

          Sam agrees, tugging his disk from his back and moving through the code. He tries to get a better handle on how his User skills work as they walk and decides that it’s probably more of an instinct thing than actual code-work. That’s how he’s gone about it so far, anyways. 

          “I’d guess that my dad didn’t survive reintegration with Clu, since I didn’t pick up any User signatures when I dropped in, and I’m not getting any here. If he survived, this is where he would have come.” 

          Quorra gives him a long look. “So, you want to leave?” 

          He hesitates before nodding and continues walking to the elevator. The light runner is waiting patiently for them to get in and Quorra takes the wheel. Sam adapts it a little bit, his own code lightly spiraling through the frame. Tron holds back a muted smile as the runner accelerates, pushing past its original bounds. Being settled into the back seat by himself while Quorra pointedly avoids conversation with him makes the space a little tense, but Tron has already gotten used to ignoring awkward silences. Clu used to yell at him a lot when he was Rinzler, mostly because he couldn’t do anything about it. Then again, Clu did worse to him while he was turning him into Rinzler in the first place. 

          It occurs the him that he’s a little tired, his systems dipping a little bit. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the seat. Sam glances back at him where he’s riding ever-so-quietly and frowns. He rustles around near his feet for a second and offers Tron the pouch of energy vials. Tron carefully takes it, not wanting to drop it during the long ride. The Sea really sucked him dry in a way that he hadn’t been before. It’s a little exhausting if he’s being completely honest with himself.  

          His movement is a little sluggish as he opens a capsule, staring down at it. The possibility of it being contaminated is low, but previous experience hangs over his head, reminding him that it  _is_  a possibility. Still, he does need the energy, so he downs it without giving himself a chance to think on it too much. He’s glad he did when his runtimes smooth out and that buzzing goes away again. He’s perfectly fine traveling with Sam and Quorra, but it is disconcerting to be in the back seat where he can’t see or scan anything. Flynn at least always let him sit up front, considerate of his compulsive desire to be aware of everything. It’s what makes him so good at his job. Sam seems sympathetic, but Quorra does not. It doesn’t bother him. He understands how she must be feeling, even if he was never hunted the way her kind was. Clu hurt him too. 

          Sam glances back at Tron, sensing a bit of his discomfort and pressing a hand to the side of the light runner and closing his eyes. Tron catches a glance of the outside world in his peripheral vision and finds that Sam has turned down the opacity of the vehicle.  

          Tron shakes his head. “You shouldn’t do that. It could give us away.” 

          Sam shrugs and puts it back. “Whatever you say, Tron. Whatever you say.” 

          He doesn’t notice the malware creeping through his code until Sam is staring back at him with a concerned expression. He shudders a bit, the knowledge that it’s still sneaking around in his code feeling more than a little invasive. He tries to figure out why Sam is staring at him before he realizes that he’s growling again.  

          “You okay?” 

          He tugs out another capsule and downs it, the knives at the back of his throat receding. “I’ve been worse.” 

          Sam puts out his hands for Tron’s disks and he gives them up willingly, watching as Sam cradles them in careful fingers. He pulls the disks apart, handing his main disk back to him while he works on the one with all the red still in it. He carefully rotates Tron’s code and tugs out bits of red all over, replacing it with workable code and something else if Tron isn’t mistaken. He only wishes he knew what it was that Sam was writing on the fly. Still, as a program, it isn’t really his business. 

          “You can ask. I know you’re watching me, Tron. I am holding your disk, after all.” 

          “I was wondering what you were stringing through my programming.” 

          “I’ve left the base code alone for the most part, and this thing is filled with combat information. Some of it is what Rinzler picked up over your time being him, and it’s useful. I’m replacing it with a similar fixed code.” 

          Tron is curious. An unusual trait for a program if there ever was one. “Is any of it protected?” 

          “The part of Rinzler that did all the growling and purring was easy to get at, but your command nodes were all covered in layers of encryption. I broke through it enough to make a couple alterations. I doubt Clu could control you even if he tried since I added my own code to cover up my fixes.” 

          “And the malware?” 

          “There’s… a chance it’s still in there, written back in some latent strings of code. We won’t know for sure until we have a chance to stop. I don’t want to accidentally rip out something important.” 

          Tron pauses, scanning Sam despite the fact that he knows he’ll get the usual errors. It doesn’t matter. Tron can spot a lie even without his scanners being able to get a read on a User. “Are you sure it’s latent or are you just telling me that?” 

          Sam stills for a couple seconds, obviously surprised to be caught in his lie. 

          “You don’t need to protect me, Sam. It’s my functional purpose to keep you and Quorra safe, not the other way around.” 

          “It’s not latent. It’s still fighting in there, but I put up a firewall between it and your new code. If you end up fighting and overexert yourself, it’ll have a chance to poke through.” 

          “Will fighting be an issue, or do I have leeway?” 

          “I’ve kept all your usual channels of activity open and ready for use.” 

          He ponders over that for a few seconds, his mind flipping through the possibilities. “So if you’ve diverted power to the firewall and to my combat abilities, I don’t have much left over, do I?” 

          “Not a lot. That’s why you’re tiring out faster right now. If you get in a fight between here and the I/O, it’ll be like a rush of adrenaline. You’ll be good to go for a little while.” 

          Tron is silent for a little bit, not wanting to ask the young User for something he might not be inclined to give.  

          Sam makes a noise. “Come to think of it, that’s probably pretty annoying of me to assume we’ll run into trouble. Guess I’m a bit of a pessimist like that.” 

          “I can’t say I blame you. You had enough trouble just getting out of here the first time. I certainly wasn’t any help.” 

          Sam stops, turning back. “You bought us time enough to get away. Valuable time, Tron. Nothing else matters.” 

          “But-“ 

          “I’m not gonna hear it, Tron. I’ll work on balancing out your energy flow.” 

          Tron takes the dismissal for what it is. On the one hand, it feels wrong to ignore everything he’s done for one ray of light in his actions. On the other, it’s nice to have Sam’s support. He knows how he feels about it, and Quorra seems to agree, but Sam is convinced otherwise. Tron wants to believe Sam. It’s good to know someone has his back, even if he doubts that they should align themselves with the barest hint of his shadow, let alone his actual person. From what Flynn described them as, Tron starts to wonder what a shadow is actually like. What color is it? Do only certain people have them?  

          So many questions. He has no idea what use a security program has outside the Grid, but he’s willing to find out. KevinFlynn promised him he’d see it once, and now he supposes Sam is there to help that become true. He wonders if it’s strange for programs to have dreams. Seeing as he’s not all program, it might just be a distinct possibility. 

          Sam winces in the front seat, staring at a chuck of malware about six bits wide. Tron doesn’t like the way that it looks, almost like it’s moving. He’s been aware for some time that his code is more... active than most programs, but it doesn’t make him as wary as the red all over his code does. Sam takes a deep breath, his gaze wavering. Tron can tell he’s getting tired.  

          He passes up a vial of energy. “Here.” 

          “Thanks.” 

          His gaze sharpens again and he focuses back in on the code in a matter of moments. He looks a little like Flynn while he codes, but their differences are stark. His gaze is less aggressive than Flynn’s, and his hands shake less. Flynn’s hands always shook, but Tron could never figure out why. 

          His eyes are drawn back to Sam’s hands as he rotates a line of code, the main channel thick with malware. Instead of focusing on that, Tron pulls out another capsule and drinks. The ringing in his head returns despite that fact and Tron has a feeling it has to do with the line of code Sam is working on. It’s wound around itself several times and it seems to be giving him a hard time. 

          “If dad was around, I could ask him how to get into god-mode and fix this in a few seconds.” Sam grumbles. 

          Tron huffs out a laugh, cautious of overstepping his bounds, but amused all the same. “Since when is anything ever easy for someone with the last name Flynn?” 

          Sam grins. “Never.” 

          Tron can’t help but feel a little better now that Sam’s mood is improved. Flynn always said that people like to smile and laugh, and it appears that it’s true. Tron was never one for laughter, but in this case it seems fitting. It took a little practice on Flynn’s part, but he did eventually figure out that Tron had a very, very dry sense of humor. There wasn’t a lot of material that Flynn could use besides explaining movies and jokes as he made them. Tron always enjoyed having that extra bit of knowledge, even if it was essentially useless inside the Grid. 

          For a moment, he realizes just how odd he must be for a program. He’s never considered his information to be irregular, but now he notes that his data is much different from that of a normal program.  

          Once Sam is through that part of code, Tron thinks he should stop for a little while. They may have enough energy to keep going for a little while, but Sam doesn’t need to be exhausting himself. It’s bad enough that Tron’s reserves are as low as they are. The last thing they need is Sam out of commission in a fight.  

          Quorra slows down a little bit as they enter the next city. Tron hadn’t even realized they’d passed through the last one without issue. Consider him both shocked and impressed. 

          “We’ve got a patrol on the loose.” Quorra murmurs. “I think we’re about to be detained.” 

          Sam looks up, pressing his hands to the front window of the light runner. “Not today.” 

          White code spirals from his fingertips and the vehicle slides out of the visible spectrum just long enough to get out of eyeshot. Tron leans forward to help Sam as he slumps back, disk still cradled in his lap.  

          “Just take is easy, Sam.” Quorra murmurs, glancing at Tron as he presses a vial of energy into Sam’s hand.  

          Tron definitely agrees with her. Sam rubs at his temples, shaking his head. “Well, that sucked a bit.” 

          He has Sam close up the data on his disks before taking them back, carefully attaching it to their port. The changes take effect immediately, making Tron's skin crawl with the sudden shift. Still, he takes it as a positive when the buzzing in his skull goes away. He doesn’t even have the low residual hum now. It isn’t perfect, and Sam’s firewall isn’t either, but it’ll do. He gives himself a shake, smiling a bit when he finds his runtimes are smoother and his passive scanners feel fully active.  

          “Thank you, Sam. It’s good to be operational again.” 

          Sam grins, although he’s looking pretty tired. “It’s definitely not a problem, buddy. I would probably give up part of my source code if I had it just to get a chance to help you.”  

          “That would be a bad idea.” Tron answers, pushing another vial of energy into his hand. 

          “The rate we’re going through these things, someone might think we were energy junkies.” 

          Quorra frowns at him. “You need to stop wasting your energy on coding. You can’t help the Grid or Tron if you’re dead.” 

          “Agreed. You should rest, Sam.” 

          “So you keep saying. And for the record, I don’t count reviving Tron or making sure we don’t get caught a waste of energy.” 

          Tron is glad to be in the back seat, because the smile that crosses his face is probably the biggest he’s ever worn. He considers raising his helmet on the off chance they glance back at him, but he figures it wouldn’t be subtle in the least. Sam is more like his dad than he gives himself credit for. 

          “Tron?” Quorra says. 

          “Yes, Quorra?” 

          “When we reach the portal, we’re going to get through pretty easily. Depending on how your code is translated, thing might get interesting.” 

          “How so?” 

          Sam makes a tired noise. “My dad’s disk is waiting for us at the exit. It has the codes to make sure you still have a physical body on the outside.” 

          Tron looks down at his hands. “Are we still wearing these on the other side?” 

          Sam chuckles lowly. “Well… Quorra and I will have clothes, but you’ll probably be a little… naked.” 

          Quorra sighs. “We probably should have thought of that.” 

          Sam shrugs, closing his eyes for a little bit. Tron leans back, nodding in approval as Sam finally decides rest is an option. Quorra seems happy as well.  

          “Do you enjoy the outside world, Quorra?” 

          “I do.” 

          Tron hums, his brow furrowing as he ponders over the terseness of her reply. “I’m sorry, Quorra. I understand if you can never forgive my actions.” 

          She glances at him. It’s the first time she has willingly done so. “It’s Rinzler I can’t forgive. Once I manage to separate the two of you in my head, it’ll be a bit easier. For now, though? I would prefer not to discuss it.” 

          Tron nods, pulling into his own head to think. He’s starting to wish he still had his batons, but then he remembers Clu taking his spare. 

          “Didn’t you have flyers?” 

          “We used them to get across the Sea of Simulation to find you. We’d be caught quickly if we flew over cities with them.” 

          “But you have them? Just in case?” 

          Quorra nods. It’s good to know they have a back-up plan if they need one.  

          He stays quiet in the back seat, continually scanning them. Quorra might be able to tell, but she hasn’t said as much. Pressing his luck seems like a bad idea at the moment, so he keeps to himself for the next cycle. He closes his eyes, just listening to the sound of the Grid under the vehicle. It’s soothing to be able to listen to it without hearing the constant grinding of his own code. It’s strange how blind to it he’d been when he was Rinzler. He rocks with the smooth turns of the light runner, zoning out. 

          The sound bothers him a little now that he’s thinking about it. He opens his eyes, shifting uncomfortably.  

          “We’re about five minutes from the I/O.” 

          Tron comes around quickly at that. “That’s impossible, we just entered the second city.” 

          “You fell asleep. Sam is still out.” 

          “I don’t sleep.” 

          Quorra chuckles. “You will once you get topside. Be sure of that much.” 

          “But I’ll still be a program. I’ll have circuits, won’t I?” 

          “Sort of. Sam explained it to me a little bit. The, um, human body has these things called neurons. They're supposedly faster than any computer.” 

          Tron blinks. “Do you have blood?” 

          “That’s one upside to going through with Flynn’s disk. Something about the codes in his DNA being key to conversion. My DNA is triple helix, at least so Sam says. Yours should be normal, but then again. You could be different since you aren't all program.” 

          Tron’s curiosity is piqued. “So when you said I fell asleep…” 

          “Well, for a program, they call it zoning. You just lost an entire cycle. I think it’s because of the way Sam reset your programming.” 

          Tron isn’t sure that he likes that. 

          She pulls to a stop just near the entrance and shakes Sam awake. “We’re here.” 

          He wakes with a sharp breath, his hand reaching for his disk. Quorra steadies him with careful hands and he apologizes. “Sorry. I was dreaming.” 

          Tron wonders at the term. What does it mean to dream? 

          He follows the pair of them to the I/O and stands just on the outer ring. Sam kneels down, placing his hand on the frame of code beneath his feet. He pulls Flynn’s disk out of the compartment that opens nearby.  

          Sam smiles at him. “So, what do you say, Tron? Ready to experience the real world?” 

          Tron takes a tentative step forwards. “Are you certain this will work?” 

          Sam nods. “As sure as I am of anything I’ve ever done.” 

          Tron makes a concerned noise. “From what I saw in the Disk Wars, you definitely need a little help in the decision-making department.” 

          “Rude.” 

          He reaches a hand out to Tron anyway and he steps forward to accept it. “What am I to expect from this?” 

          “You’ll feel funny for a second, but then you’ll be all set.” 

          Tron doubts it’ll be that simple, but he steps into the light of the I/O anyway. He’s completely shocked to find that Sam wasn’t lying. 

          His chest squeezes a little bit and he jolts as he enters their world. He stumbles back, gasping as he looks around the new space. The room is small. 

          Sam grabs something from off the chair nearby and he approaches Tron where he’s sitting on the ground. “Just take it easy, Tron. It’s okay, just let me put this over you, okay? You’re naked, remember?” 

          Tron stills, nodding. Sam puts the weird thing on top of him and asks Quorra to stay with him while he grabs some clothes. Tron stares down at his hands, rubbing at his fingers with fascinated eyes.  

          “Jarring, isn’t it?” 

          Tron nods. “I wasn’t expecting it to be such a… physical change.” 

          Quorra huffs. “I wasn’t either. I’d always wondered if real skin felt like program skin. Flynn let me ask anything I really wanted to know, but it’s a whole different world to experience it for yourself.” 

          He nods again, hands gripping the soft thing Sam had dropped on him. “What is this?” 

          “It’s a coat. It works a lot like our clothing, but… it has zippers.” 

          “Zippers?” 

          Quorra grins, tugging a small metallic piece on her outerwear and dragging it down. “It makes a fun sound.” 

          “That’s…. interesting.” 

          “I love clothes here. I mean, aside from the fact that we have to wash them.” 

          “Wash?” 

          “Yeah. Stuff gets dirty here.” 

          Tron doesn’t know exactly what that means and he plays with the edge of the coat while he ponders over it. The supposed “zipper” feels weird. “What is this?” 

          “It’s metal. And that odd sensation you’re feeling is cold.” 

          Tron scans it. His eyes flash a little blue and identify the object based on Quorra’s description. “I still have scanners.” 

          Quorra’s brow furrows. “That’s weird.” 

          Tron shrugs. “I think it’d be weirder not to have them.” 

          They wait patiently for Sam to return and Tron notes that the “cold” feeling seems to be creeping onto his “skin”. He doesn’t like it. He also briefly wonders why it is that they’re covering him up, but he’d guess there’s a reason. He shifts, reaching over his shoulder to check for his disks. Quorra hums when he finds them still attached, seeming mildly interested. 

          “Sometimes I wish I still had mine.” 

          Tron pulls his disks free, noting that the port on his back feels strange. “I’m not all human, am I?” 

          She shakes her head. “Nope. You’re more like a walking computer. I made a full transition, but you’re… different. I wasn’t sure what you’d be like on this side.” 

          Just as Tron is nodding in agreement, Sam patters back down the stairs. “Hey. I got you some clothes. I hope they fit.”  

          Quorra raises an eyebrow. “Did you steal those?” 

          “What do you take me for?” he answers, dropping something near the exit. 

          “A sometimes-thief.” 

          Tron snickers, jolting a bit as Sam throws the clothes on his head. He asks Quorra to turn around out of common courtesy while he helps Tron get dressed. 

          Tron growls more than a couple times. “This is needlessly complicated.” 

          “Well, light doesn’t work the same here, buddy. We definitely can’t use it to get dressed. Sorry.” 

          “You don’t sound sorry.” Tron grumbles, attempting to put on the “shirt” that Sam offers him.  

          Sam tries not to crack up as he struggles with the pants. They’re a smidge big, but not bad. 

          “These are ridiculous.” 

          “To you maybe.” 

          He takes a couple minutes trying to adjust the outerwear to be comfortable before Sam decides to help. Quorra turns around once she gets bored, snagging something from the diminishing pile of clothing on the floor. “You’ll like these.” 

          Tron cautiously takes them from her and squints at them. “What are they?” 

          Sam smirks. “They’re socks. They go on your feet.” 

          He peers inside one of them before deeming them safe and proceeding to slide them onto his feet. He wiggles his toes a little. “They’re… soft.” 

          Sam nods, moving back towards the door to pick up the object he’d dropped earlier. “Okay. I brought you a couple pairs of shoes, since I didn’t know what size you were. They’re also for your feet.” 

          He slides them on, frowning at them as Sam presses the toes.  

          “A little big.” 

          Tron kicks them off when Sam offers him another pair and puts those on instead. They fit better, but Tron isn’t sure he likes how clunky they are. A lot of the things he now wears feel that way. 

          Sam offers him a coat last and Tron pulls it on. He grips it. “This isn’t the same as the shirt.” 

          “It’s leather.” 

          “Feels more like… skin.” Tron answers. 

          “It is skin. Or faux skin, from an animal.” 

          Tron grimaces at the terminology. “I have no idea what that is.” 

          Quorra wears an amused smile, wrapping her arm around Sam’s and pulling him upstairs. “Come on, you two. If he thinks clothes are weird, we’ll have to see what he thinks of the real world.” 

          Tron drags his fingers along the wall as they go up the stairs, Quorra keeping him moving from behind. “This is very… sensual.” 

          Sam huffs. “You think that’s great, you’re gonna love the hug you’re about to get.” 

          “I’m getting a hug? Why?” 

          “I told Alan to drop by. He should be here any minute now.” 

          Tron takes a deep breath. “Alan-One?” 

          “What other Alan do we know, buddy?” 

          He nods, his fingers scraping into a divot between the hard rectangles going up the stairs.  

          “Bricks.” Quorra explains. 

          “It truly is a strange world the Users live in.” 

          Sam pushes something open and Tron moves up into the lighted room. He moves to stand in the middle of the humming machines. “They sound like the detainment ships.” he mutters, scanning around to check the room before his two companions enter it. 

          “Sorta, I guess.”  

          The box behind Sam closes on its own and Tron turns, spotting his name written across the top. “What is that?” 

          “This is Tron.” Sam grins. “I played this a lot when I was a kid. They’re video games.” 

          He makes a noise. “Like Disk Wars?” 

          “Sorta. Nothing that physical.” 

          “How do you play them, if not physically present?” 

          Sam pulls the plastic off of one of the other games, digging around in his pockets for loose change. He’s gotta have something for change after buying clothes. The closest store was a block away, so he may as well have just bought them. 

          He pushes a quarter into the machine and explains the controls to Tron, letting him take the toggles. Tron’s eyes glow as he syncs to the machine and Sam makes an inquisitive sound. He downloads the criteria and presses start. Sam has never seen anyone pick up a video game so fast. He’s tempted to ask him for his disks to see how that works, but he doubts Tron would appreciate it. Quorra’s expression is analyzing as she watches Tron play. 

          “Sam?” 

          Tron startles, turning towards the door and reaching back for his disks. He puts a defensive arm out to keep Quorra and Sam behind him. In the short time he’s known them, he’s gotten pretty attached.  

          Sam is just glad he got clothes with a loose neckline. 

          The face that greets Tron’s scanners is old. White hair and a kindly expression are prominent features. His confusion is evident, but Tron thinks he seems familiar.  

          He stares at Tron, noting the way that he’s standing protectively in front of Sam and Quorra. “Who is that?” 

          Tron stills, the man’s voice striking a cord in him. Sam puts a hand on his shoulder and he stands down, straightening and sliding his disks back under his shirt.  

          “Tron, this is Alan Bradley. Alan, this is Tron.” 

          Alan blatantly gazes at him. “You’re Tron?” 

          He nods, suddenly unable to speak. 

          Alan approaches, placing his hands on Tron’s shoulders and looking him up and down. “This is… incredible. I knew Kevin said he was borrowing you for something he was working on, but this… I don’t know what to say.” 

          Tron looks into the man’s eyes, scanning him just to be sure. “Alan-One.” he breathes. 

          Alan chuckles. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that.”  

          He stares at Tron as if he was a long-lost son. Tron blinks, attempting to rid himself of the jitters he feels. Alan pulls him forwards into his arms and Tron takes a sharp breath. So, this is the hug that Sam said was coming.  Flynn used to put his arm around his shoulders, but that was as physical as he ever really got. This... this is a whole new game, if not even more pleasant than Flynn’s easy friendship.  In a User sense, it’s very paternal. 

          Alan pulls back, ruffling his hair and grinning as he takes a step back to look at him. “My Tron. This is incredible.” 

          Sam lets out a ghost of a laugh. “That’s one word for it. Did you notice he kept his disks? Even Quorra didn’t get a chance to do that.” 

          Alan tips his head. “I did, actually.” 

          Tron opens his mouth to apologize, but Alan waves him off. He quietly pulls his disks back over his shoulder and offers them to Alan. “Here.” 

          Alan twists them the same way he did earlier to break them apart and looks up at Tron. “Two disks?” 

          Tron nods solemnly. “I... took it off a black guard after he tried to kill me.” 

          “And you were able to hold it? Safely?” 

          “Have ever since.” 

          Quorra shakes her head, pulling Sam’s arm. “Come on. We should give them time to catch up before we overload his circuits, I suppose.” 

          Alan hugs both of them before they can go out the door and then gestures up the stairs to Kevin’s old office. Tron obeys, hesitating at the top of the steps.  

          Alan turns the knob. “It’s a door handle. We have a lot of them out here.” 

           Tron only nods, stepping into the room and scanning it for threats. He takes a deep breath to get a feel for the room and comes back coughing. “What is that?” 

          “That would be dust.” 

          He finishes scanning for threats, giving himself a shake. “It’s musty.” 

          “If you’re anything like me, you probably aren’t a fan.” 

          “Not in the slightest.” 

          “Well... in its defense, it has been unused for a little over twenty years.” 

           Tron shrugs, settling down a little as he leans against the wall. Alan sits at the desk and asks Tron to tell him what happened. Tron does, because it’s his creator. He can trust Alan-One with his life, and he will never not be glad that Sam brought him here. He never thought he’d get to meet his maker, but he was sorely wrong. Even with Flynn’s promise, he never reasonably expected to meet Alan-One.  

          Sam and Quorra return after a long while and say they’re taking them out to dinner. Alan accepts, stating that he’s starving. Tron has no idea what to expect from this “dinner” considering energy is the only thing he’s ever lived on.  

          “Don’t worry, Tron.” Alan chuckles. “We aren’t trying to poison you or anything. We’ll just see how much human food you can actually taste. From what I’ve gathered, you’re still part program. Your disks have a very interesting matrix.” 

          “A lot of the code in them is Sam’s.”  

          Alan nods, opening the door the let Quorra out of the arcade first. “I know. I recognized a lot of his style in there. It’s very functional. More so than Kevin's old work.” 

          Sam grabs the door to let Alan and Tron through. Alan directs them towards his car on the street corner and both he and Tron get in the back so Sam can drive. Quorra settles into the front seat, immediately putting her feet on the dash. Sam scolds her, but it doesn’t stop her.  

          “Who’s up for Italian?” 

          Everyone agrees, except Tron, who instead quietly says, “What’s Italian?” 

          Alan explains while Quorra and Sam chat about what they’re going to do over the weekend. ENCOM is having a conference that neither of them want to attend.  Tron understands a lot of it, but the non-work aspects don’t make much sense to him. He stares out the window for a long period of time as they roll through the main part of the city.  

          It’s only when his head sinks against the window that Alan realizes he’s fallen asleep. He laughs softly. “I think we tuckered him out. This is a lot to take in for a program.” 

          “Sort-of program.” Sam corrects. “I’m still not quite sure what he qualifies as, but his code is all kinds of weird.” 

          “Even before you got to it?” 

          “Especially before.” 

          Alan mulls that over, watching his program as he snoozes against the window. He wonders about all the practical applications of him in the human world. He wonders what someone would do if they ever found out about Tron or Quorra and a fierce wave of protectiveness rises in him. 

          Sam slows to a stop in front of the restaurant where he’d gotten reservations on short notice. “Alan, if you would so kindly vacate the back seat, I’ll wake him up.” 

          Alan hops out and leaves his door open while Sam wakes Tron, not wanting to startle him. Sam taps on the glass from outside the vehicle and Tron snaps upright, his hand moving towards his disks. His eyes land on Sam and he opens the door, gesturing for Tron to step out. Tron does so warily, scanning his surroundings with imperative eyes.  

          His eyes land particularly hard on a man hanging out in the mouth of an alley three blocks down. Sam puts a hand on his shoulder. 

          “Come on. We’re heading away from him anyway.” 

          Tron doesn’t look happy about it, but he turns to follow Sam into the building. Alan closes his door and trails behind them, offering his arm to Quorra. She grins.  

          “Such a gentleman.” 

          “Considering your experience rests mostly with Sam, I would guess this is an improvement.” 

          She pats his hand. “Sam is good to me. Don't worry.” 

          “That’s good to know. I like to think I did one thing right, even if I didn’t have a huge hand in his upbringing.” 

          Quorra inclines her head towards the man in question and Alan watches as he carefully handles Tron in the crowded space. He acts like he’s known Tron since the first day he was made.  

          “I think those two will be good friends. Better even than him and Flynn.” 

          Quorra agrees. “Sam wants nothing more than to make his dad proud, and he wants you to be proud of him too. Saving Tron is helping him feel a little better about Flynn.” 

          Alan smiles as Sam directs Tron to a corner table, placing him squarely in the corner itself. He’ll be able to see everyone from there. Alan helps Quorra into the booth and then moves to sit next to Tron. Sam sits next to Quorra, passing her a menu.  

          Tron’s brow furrows. “What is that?” 

          Sam passes him one. “It’s a menu. You pick food and then the waiters take our orders to give the cooks, who then make the food and send it with the waiters when it’s done.” 

          Tron nods, his scanners picking out Users everywhere. It’s making his head hurt a bit to have so many error messages. He scans the room two more times just to be sure before picking up his menu and leafing through it.  

          Not a single word makes a lick of sense. 

          “Sam, what is all this?” 

          “Human food. I don’t think you need to eat, but you can try whatever you want.” 

          Quorra huffs. “That’s hardly fair. Even I need to eat.” 

          Tron looks it over, eventually just asking Alan to pick something out because he has no idea what he’s doing. He gets him some “pasta”. Plain pasta. Whatever that means. 

          Everyone else orders and then they wait. Tron is okay with that. He’s good at waiting. He toys with the edge of the zipper, running his fingers along the ridges.  

          Tron keeps his gaze low to avoid all the error messages now that he’s sure the room is clear, but he still makes the occasional glance up at the other tables. Other Users are giving him odd looks.  

          “Alan-One, is it normal for other Users to watch you?” 

          Alan gives him an odd look. “Yes. It’s not every day they see the CEO of ENCOM and the biggest shareholder at the same time. We try to keep out of the public eye. Or at least, I do. Sam, I think, likes the attention.” 

          Sam isn’t paying them one bit of attention, too busy discussing later plans with Quorra. 

          Tron chuckles, looking up at the waiter when he comes by with their food. He stills at the sight of the food, something a little off about it as he sets the drinks down. There's an odd crackling coming from Sam's drink. The waiter leans into their personal space a little, placing their orders in front of them. Tron immediately scans all of it, placing his hand over the mouth of Sam’s drink as he reaches for it. The waiter gives him a look, but continues to serve them. He leaves and then Tron pulls his hand back. 

          “What was that?” 

          “What is  _that_?” 

          Sam glances down at his drink. “It’s soda.” 

          Tron places his hand over the top again. “It’s bubbling.” 

          “It’s carbonated. Fizzy. You can try it if you want. We just got you some water.” 

          Tron looks at his own drink and grabs the straw sticking out of the top. He drinks a little bit of it and finds that it doesn’t taste like much of anything. He doesn’t exactly know what to think of it. Sam passes over his drink and Tron gives in to his curiosity. The zing that goes through his processors isn’t unpleasant. It has an odd taste as well, but then again... he’s only ever tasted a digital equivalent. Data doesn’t taste like much, kind of like the water. 

          He gives himself a little shake and passes the drink back.  

          Quorra laughs at him. “Weird, right?” 

          Tron nods, turning his gaze to his plate of pasta. He takes the fork like Sam and Quorra have and twists it into his food. He isn’t sure how to describe what he’s eating, but it is good.  

          Sam grins when he says as much and offers him a little sauce from his own plate. Tron accepts, taking Quorra’s encouraging look as a positive. Her expression is still a little pained, but he would guess that it only has to do with his face. It’s tense, but she’s making an effort. He appreciates it. 

          He likes the sauce. 

          Alan offers him a little bit of “crab” from his meal and Tron tries not to feel like he’s imposing on his creator. Alan-One insists, which does make him feel a little better about it. Quorra offers him a little lasagna from her plate and he tries that too.  

          User food is good. Sam says he likely won’t care for everything, but Tron wants to disagree. It’s been good so far. Still, Sam seems pretty sure that not all food is fit for consumption.  

          “Well, at least we know you have some good taste buds. Italian has always been a favorite of mine.” Sam chuckles. 

          “You said I don’t need to eat, though, right?” 

          Sam nods, chowing down on his own food now that Tron has a full plate. “It’s not really relevant for you, since you’re mostly program, even out here. We’ll check your disks later just to be sure, but you should have the chance to enjoy while you’re here. I'd guess your body would turn it into pure energy to use.” 

          “What about his other attributes?” Alan asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Tron follows in suit, realizing that spills are an issue here.  

          Sam looks to Tron, swallowing before responding. “Well, I’d assume that your self-healing module keeps you in peak shape, and your biology as a sort-of program allows you to go without eating. We’ll probably need to check you out on the computers at work, maybe get a read on everything going on in your new body.” 

          Tron slurps up a little more pasta, bobbing his head in agreement.  

          “For now, I think we’ll stick to showing you around. This world is a much bigger place.” 

          Tron can’t help but think “much bigger” is an understatement. He’s only been in one city, but Flynn told him there were thousands. Hundreds of thousands.  

          It’s only once everyone is finished does Sam pay for the meal. Alan tried to, but Sam insisted. Tron is a bit confused by that, but he doesn’t question it. Sam leads them back to the car and slides into the driver’s seat. Tron wonders at the practicality of a vehicle that doesn’t come from a baton. It takes up a lot of space. Sam claims that it is possible to ride a light cycle in this world, but it isn’t advised. Anyone who caught them would have a lot of questions. They would likely be questions that none of them would want to answer. Especially not with Tron and Quorra in the real world with them. 

          The walk to the vehicle is short, but Tron still looks around for any suspicious Users. No world is without its dangers, especially one as big as this one. Tron slows as he spots the man from earlier now closer. The mouth of the alley is practically within reaching distance of the vehicle, and he’s got a look to him that Tron doesn’t like.  

          “Sam.” Tron says warningly. 

          He stills, looking back at Tron from where he’s standing next to the door. Tron catches up, Alan and Quorra picking up their pace to join him. He sends a glare towards the man in the alley, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The man grimaces, edging back into the shadows and disappearing.  

          “I’ve got it.” Alan says, opening the door for Tron to get in. “Your cover for this world will be Sam’s bodyguard. He needs one of those anyway.” 

          “Alan, I don’t need a bodyguard.” 

          “That’s not what security cameras say. That’s not what anyone with the last name Flynn  _should_  be saying.” 

          Sam starts the car, huffing. “I’ll have you know I’m pretty handy in a fight when I need to be. I beat two programs in the Disk Wars before I attempted to escape. I tell you what, that was pretty freaky for a first time.” 

          “You’ll then recall that you lost to me within a minute?” Tron answers, siding with Alan-One.  

          “I was really hoping you wouldn’t mention that.” 

          Tron hums. “I’m not saying you aren’t capable, but you don’t have the combative skills to stay alive in the real world. Your physical detriments may be corrected when you enter the Grid, but they aren’t here.” 

          “No offense, but I made it twenty years on my own.” 

          Alan shakes his head. “Getting in trouble? Your annual prank on the company? I don’t call that making it own your own.” 

          Sam sighs. “Here we go again.” 

          Tron intervenes. “Sam, Alan-One is simply looking out for your well-being. He doesn’t want you to get hurt any more than Quorra or I do. You are the leader of ENCOM and you’re responsible for the Grid now. This world needs you as much as ours does.” 

          Sam pulls out onto the road, heading towards his apartment. If he can call it that. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. I really do. It’s just a little irritating to be told what to do.” 

          “Being a bodyguard would be the perfect place for Tron. He’d get to stay up to date on all happenings in ENCOM, get all the appropriate upgrades, and he’d be able to watch out for you without overstepping bounds. That’s more than any of us can do, Sam. If Quorra or I were to do that, it would look like you’re incompetent, but if Tron did it? That’s a safety measure. That’s smart.” 

          Sam considers that for a little bit, glancing over at Quorra. She shrugs. 

          “Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be so bad. Still, it’s not up to me. It’s Tron’s choice.” 

          Tron lets a small smile cross his face. Sam knows that having a choice is important to him. After Clu, he must realize that Tron needs to be able to control a few variables himself. “I’ll do it.” 

          Alan leans forwards to clasp Sam’s shoulder. “To the office. We can get an identity made for him there and you can acquaint him with the building.” 

          Sam nods. “Okay. To the office we go.” 

          They arrive within a few minutes and Tron peers up at the very top of the building. “This looks almost exactly like the spire in the middle of the city.” 

          “That would be because it probably is.” Alan laughs, clapping his shoulder and moving to go inside. He glances back at the car and Quorra waves. She has no interest in going in to work now that it’s getting late. 

          Sam puts his hand on the scanner to get inside the building and Tron looks at it with a silent question in his expression.  

          “Fingerprints.” Sam explains. “You didn’t have them before you came here, but you’ve probably got ‘em now.” 

          Tron hums his acknowledgement and walks inside with the three of them. The building is almost blindingly white. Tron doesn’t care much for it. He prefers the usual black with lighting like in the Grid. Come to think of it, Flynn's hide-out had been like this. He scans the room a couple times, picking up a User at the desk and another one by a contraption near the entry.  

          Sam walks up to the User behind the desk, tapping his hand on the desk. “Hey.” 

          The man looks up. “Little Flynn. Got a nice entourage with you, huh? And who’s that?” 

          He motions Tron forwards. “This is my buddy, Rinzler. He’s gonna be my new bodyguard.” 

          The man, who Tron now assumes to be a guard, stands up to shake his hand. “It’s really good to meet you, Rinzler. This kid has needed someone to keep an eye on him for some time.” 

          Tron doesn’t know how he feels about being called Rinzler again, but he knows that they can’t call him Tron. That would be a suspicious of a whole different variety. He doubts that it would end all that well. At least Rinzler is a name they’ve never heard. Maybe this way, Rinzler can be put to good use.

          Tron shakes the man’s hand. ‘It’s good to be here. Sam’s known me pretty much his whole life, and as far as I’m concerned, he could use the muscle. He’s been known to pick a fight or two with bad odds.” 

          The guard looks between Tron and Alan. “You two kinda got a little resemblance.” 

          Alan chuckles, resting a hand on Tron’s shoulder from behind. “It’s a familial one. This is my nephew.” 

          The guard grins. “Ah. Keeping it in the family. That’s good. If you ever need me, my name is Mr. Jeffreys. It’s real good to meet you, Rinzler.” 

          “All the same.” 

          Sam waves at the guard as they pass and directs Tron towards what he calls an elevator. It’s a little too enclosed compared to the ones on the Grid.  It’s not near as smooth of a ride, either.  

          They come to a stop and step out into the main hallway leading to the office. Tron looks around, noting a couple offices still in use despite the hour.  None of the people register as an immediate threat, so he follows Alan into the boardroom. He can hear the computer in the table humming from where he stands, so he moves forwards to touch it. He syncs into the system, noting the building plans and camera positions and committing them to memory. He also takes in the employee files and faces. 

          He pulls back. “Any insight into extra exits?” 

          Sam shrugs. “I jumped off the roof last time I needed an escape route, but I had a parachute.” 

          Tron nods. “Duly noted. Not a viable escape, though.” 

          “For you it would be, if you ever needed to. You could make the jump from this building to a neighboring one because of-” 

          “I realize that, but if you’re my charge...” 

          Sam makes a face, looking up from the table where he's working on creating an identity for Tron. “Right. Splat.” Tron isn’t necessarily a fan of that description, but it is unfortunately apt. “Next to going out the window, if you’re looking at the schematics, there isn’t really anything else besides what you have.” 

          Tron looks around, giving the room one last passive scan before turning towards the door. Sam takes that as a sign that he’s ready to leave and shoots Quorra a text to start the car. Alan passes through the door, moving straight for the elevator. Tron slows as his passive scanners pick up movement headed directly for Sam. 

          “Hey, Flynn!” 

          Sam turns only to get a fist in his face, sending him back onto the floor. Tron  _moves_. The man who attacked Sam is on the floor with Tron’s disks at his neck in no time at all. 

          Sam climbs to his feet. “What was that for? Come on, Ed! I’d gone the whole day without getting blood on myself.” 

          Edward Dillinger Jr. Struggles on the floor, face-down, Tron holding him there with a prejudice. “Explain yourself.”  

          “Why? I don’t even know you!” he growls, trying to get a good look at him. 

          Sam gestures for Tron to put his disks away and he does, carefully stowing them while still holding down the young Dillinger. “Because you’ve just attacked my employer and I’d like to know why.” 

          “I don’t answer to you!” he spits, his face a little red. 

          “Ed!” Sam snaps. “If you don’t explain yourself, my bodyguard is probably going to break your arm.” 

          Alan looks down on him, a little disappointed. He showed so much promise once, but now he’s just angry because Sam decided to step back in and take the reins.  

          “Bodyguard?” 

          “Rinz, let him up.” 

          Tron backs off, letting him go with a harsh movement. Ed groans, picking himself off the floor.  He straightens his vest and tie, brushing himself off as if there were dust on the floor. He sends a glare Tron’s way, but it isn’t even close to the dangerous one he’s wearing. The young Dillinger is startled enough to turn away. 

          Smart. 

          Tron stands off to the side, his shoulders square and arms crossed. He’s not about to let Edward forget he’s here just because he’s not looking at him. He almost cracks a smile at the discomfort he reads off of him.  

          “So?” Sam asks, raising a brow. “What was that little outburst all about?” 

          He glances back at Tron. “You killed my project in the board meeting today even though it was a viable interest for the company. You can’t just expect us to rally behind your every command because you’re the son of Kevin Flynn.” 

          “I don't need to, actually, but that isn’t important. Your project would have taken months to get set up and cost the company more than it gains. I may not have finished college, but I am an expert at head math, Ed. I can write code as fast as my fingers will allow. Did you think I wouldn’t find out you were trying to undermine me by making it look like I don’t know what I’m doing?” 

          Edward looks surprised. Alan-One looks proud.  

          “For future reference. Stick to what you’re good at. That’s why I’m keeping you around. You’re good for this company even if you don’t like me. You have good input and good ideas, I just need you to apply them to this company more than you are.” 

          Edward looks shocked at his words, his mouth moving without sound before he storms back to his own office. Tron purses his lips, trying not to laugh. Alan squeezes Sam’s shoulders, grinning. 

          “Good job, kiddo.” 

          Alan beckons Tron and the sort-of program moves, sliding easily under Alan’s free arm as they turn towards the elevator. Sam laughs from his other side, glancing back at the office with a snort.  

          “That was great. You should have seen the look on his face when you pinned him!” 

          Tron smiles a little, glad he could help. “Just doing my job.” 

          “Well, part of it anyway. Oh ye who is not a total security program.” 

          He shrugs. “I don’t see how that’s my fault.” He looks at Alan-One a little reverently. “That was all Alan-One.” 

          The elevator starts to go down, Sam grinning as he leans back against the wall. “Well, Alan’s fault or not, I think we’re keeping you. This is gonna be great. I’m sorry I ever doubted you Al, but Tron and I are gonna have buckets of fun.” 

          “Don’t you dare corrupt my program.” 

         “Oh, we’ll see. Alan. We’ll just have to see.” 

          Tron is amused, but he is also very much looking forward to the experience. It’s sure to be, as Flynn would have once said, “Wild”. 


End file.
